


At Time-Warp Speed

by Clipped_Ionian_Vowels



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV), Rocky Horror Picture Show
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Songfic, in the LOOSEST possible sense, knowledge of RHPS encouraged but not required, not quite a crossover, riff raff cameo, toastie cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 10:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21251699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clipped_Ionian_Vowels/pseuds/Clipped_Ionian_Vowels
Summary: The story of Lister and Rimmer, as told through their yearly watches of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.





	At Time-Warp Speed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewronglong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewronglong/gifts).
  * Inspired by [RHPS on the Dwarf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381333) by [thewronglong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewronglong/pseuds/thewronglong). 

> In true Rocky tradition, I decided to wait until Halloween before posting this fic, so Happy Halloween everyone!  
I had such fun with writing this (as usual, I wrote far more than intended, but the original fic kept inspiring me), so a massive thank you to thewronglong for putting their lovely fic up for remixing this year - I hope I did it justice :)  
Enjoy!

_It’s just a jump to the left_

The first year that Rimmer agreed to watch Rocky Horror with Lister, he was more than apprehensive. He was downright terrified.

His heart was still hammering at the memory of Lister discovering him watching it on his own, but Lister’s easy acceptance of the fact had meant more to him than Rimmer cared to admit.

But then Lister’s insistence that they do it _properly, _with just about everyone he could scrape together (costumes and props included) felt like Rimmer had stumbled into a parallel world – this sort of thing didn’t happen to him. People didn’t enjoy the things that he did, and people didn’t _go out of their way _to enjoy them.

Rimmer was halfway convinced that this was all an elaborate hoax.

But to his immense surprise, it _hadn’t_ gone terribly. He’d returned to their quarters feeling strangely buoyant, humming along to ‘Science Fiction’ as Lister belted the lyrics into echoing corridors. The bonhomie continued right up until he caught sight of himself in the mirror and noticed that the ‘H’ on his forehead had become a lurid red ‘V’.

“What have you done to my face?” He’d demanded. Lister looked at him innocently and told him that it was just what you did with Rocky.

“You don’t have one!”

“I don’t need one; I’ve seen a live showing before.”

“But... why? What does it stand for?”

“Virgin. Duh.”

Rimmer snarled, and Lister grinned, counting himself lucky that Rimmer couldn’t attack him on softlight.

The ‘V’ stayed for a few more days, before Rimmer’s sulking became unbearable and Lister changed it back to keep the peace.

—-

_And then a step to the right_

Another year, another showing of Rocky Horror.

Rimmer had tried to warn Lister against any funny business with his forehead this year, but Lister had just kept making ‘giving head’ jokes and Rimmer had eventually been forced to shut up.

He wasn’t sure he minded the jokes as much as he had last year. He didn’t think he minded _Lister _quite as much either, not that the goit would ever hear that from him.

A lot could change in a year.

_A lot. _Rimmer thought, looking down at himself and feeling a shiver of apprehension wind its way down his corseted-back and into his heels.

He scrunched his eyes shut. It was too late to turn back now.

Taking a deep breath, Rimmer peered into the bunkroom, keeping everything beneath his shoulders effectively hidden behind the doorway.

“Hi,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Oh, blimey,” Lister’s eyes widened before accustoming to Rimmer-as-Frank-n-Furter. The makeup wasn’t over-the-top, but Rimmer’s eyes were shadowed blue and a dark lipstick stained his mouth a deep red.

“I look ridiculous,” Rimmer mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Bollocks! You look proper fantastic-” Lister said, nearly unable to tear his gaze from Rimmer’s face, “- let’s see the rest of it then,” he gestured at where the rest of Rimmer was still hidden.

“Er… on second thoughts, I think it might be too much-“

“Well that’s nonsense. There’s no such thing as _too much _with Rocky.”

It looked to Lister like Rimmer was mentally preparing himself for something far more harrowing then simply showing Lister an outfit. 

“Look, if it makes you feel better-“ Lister smiled slyly, glancing at Rimmer before dropping his dressing gown, revealing a pair of tight golden shorts clinging to his crotch. _Very _clingy. _Very _tight. 

Rimmer made a noise in the back of his throat, spluttering as Lister stood there looking far too proud of himself. “Smegging hell - _Warn _me next time. Bloody exhibitionist…” Rimmer finally gulped, clutching the string of pearls around his neck.

Lister chuckled, striking a parody of some kind of macho-man display of muscle and winking.

“Showing off only works if you’ve got something worth showing,” This earned Rimmer the bird, before the hologram sighed and stepped into the room. 

Lister gave a long, low wolf-whistle. Rimmer gave him a glare. 

“Nice legs.”

“I hope you choke on a slice of dry toast,” he muttered, running his hands nervously down the fishnets.

“Did Holly give you that hair? It’s not regulation.”

“Don’t make me regret agreeing to this,” Rimmer said, but the words lacked bite and Lister smiled at him. 

“High heels too? Fuck me, I’m going to look tiny next to you.”

“You already do.”

“Make up for it though, don’t I?” Lister cast a suggestive eye at his own crotch. 

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“But that’s the whole _point _of Rocky!”

Rimmer couldn’t come up with an argument fast enough, and Lister sent him a triumphant look before indicating that they should probably hurry up; everyone else would already be there.

On the walk down to the cinema, Rimmer kept having to grab at Lister’s arm; the heels making the process of taking an ordinary step suddenly extraordinarily difficult. To Lister’s credit, he didn’t complain and on the walk back many hours later (by which point they were decidedly more wobbly than before, courtesy of Parrot’s bar) he wrapped his arm around Rimmer’s waist, steadying them both as they stumbled back to the bunkroom.

\---

_With your hands on your hips_

The third time they did Rocky, Rimmer sat as close to Lister as he dared. 

He had seen the film so many times at this point that he didn't need to watch it to know what was happening, so he watched Lister instead. He watched Lister until Lister started watching him back. 

It was subtle at first, glances that fled quickly back to the screen as soon as eye contact was made. But as the film continued, filling the room with an air of loosened inhibitions, the looks started to linger until they positively smouldered. 

It hadn't been long since Rimmer had obtained a hardlight body.

That was all they could both think about as they looked at each other, and eventually Rimmer’s murmured command to '_touch me' - _spoken quietly along with the lyrics - prompted Lister to finally do something about it. 

A warm hand snuck around the base of Rimmer's back and rested just above his hips, thumb pressing into the simulated skin beneath Rimmer's corset as Lister leaned in closer, lining their bodies up along warm contours. Breathing warm air against Rimmer’s neck and relishing in the way he finally shivered, after years of being unable to feel anything.

The room was dark and no one noticed as their faces flushed under the surreal lights of the cinema screen. 

No one asked why they didn’t stay long at Parrot’s that night and in the morning, everyone was tactful enough not to question why Lister was suddenly wearing smeared red lipstick across his lips and thighs.

_\----_

_You bring your knees in tight_

Halloween, or the particular piece of time and space that they'd chosen to call Halloween, had rolled around again. 

It was a smaller crowd this year. 

Not really a crowd at all. 

Just Lister in his bunk, and the small TV blaring out a low-res picture and tinny sound quality. Sometimes the Cat or Kryten wafted in for a moment or two, but they seemed to sense that he would rather be alone.

Lister bundled himself further into his blankets, eyes fixed on the burning neon-luminescence of the TV. It had all happened so fast. Too fast to realise that_ what _had been happening was much more than either of them realised.

Their relationship, or whatever might have passed for one, was over before it started. They hadn’t needed an official break-up. They hadn't even recognised it for what it was, at the time. It had just felt like two warm bodies in the endless cold of space - just comfort, when all was said and done. Nothing deeper. 

Nothing _smegging _deeper.

Which was why Rimmer taking on the Ace mantel, becoming the hero he always wished he could have been, had seemed like a good idea at the time.

And Lister hoped he was happy, wherever he was. He truly hoped Rimmer was happy. Because Lister had never felt further from happiness.

He missed Rimmer. He missed him every morning when he woke up and remembered he was gone, and every evening that he went to sleep alone. And he missed him in the moments in-between.

The only time he didn’t miss him was when he was asleep and dreaming. The moments when he saw Rimmer in front of him and it felt only slightly to the left of real life. But the dreams only made the missing worse, and he’d lost count of the times he’d slid to the floor on his way to the shower, overcome with the burn of misery in his chest.

Watching Rocky Horror had been a bad idea, he realised, as his eyes grew wet and he pulled his knees against his chest, trying to hold in the sobs that rolled through him like waves. 

He turned the film off before the final scene. 

He knew it would hit too close to home. 

_\---_

_But it's the pelvic thrust_

Ace had visited a lot of dimensions. 

There would be a distress call, he'd turn on the jump-drive, and hey-presto, another universe ripe for being saved. 

It was a fulfilling existence, as these things went. 

But it had been a long time now. A very long time.

He tried to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. It felt like it had grown recently, threatening to engulf him in his blackest moments.

_Loneliness._

He’d never thought that Ace’s really _got _lonely, but quick into the game he’d realised that the life of a space hero was a solitary one. It wasn’t all bad. It gave him moments to think, moments where he could be introspective and address the parts of himself that needed nurturing, or ignoring.

It was meditative like that.

And the first few months really had been wonderful, but now… he wasn’t even sure when ‘now’ was. He’d jumped so much and so far through space and time that he could be anywhere in the past, present or future. It all felt the same.

Touching his chest, he let his fingertips drift over the breast pocket. There had once been a photo there, until it had disintegrated from his frequent handling of it. The pieces still remained.

It had shown the crew of Red Dwarf, dressed up. Cat looking off to the left of the frame, Kryten frowning at the camera, trying to figure out whether the photo was going to take.

He was there too – Arnold Rimmer to the right of the frame, a half-smile on his face, the tell-tale horizontal glitch in the photo indicating his holographic status.

And then Dave, his laugh fixed in time by the photograph, a hand gripping Rimmer’s shoulder as he doubled over in mirth at something he’d said.

Ace couldn’t remember the joke he’d told. The joke wasn’t the important part anyway.

He’d stolen the photo from Dave’s bunk shortly before leaving the Dwarf and it had always acted as a sort of touchstone, grounding him, though he could never look at the photo for long without feeling a lurch in his stomach; that ever present _pull _back to your own time and dimension which only became stronger, more painful, the more you remembered it.

He scrunched up his forehead, smoothing his hands down the lines of his flight suit.

And there it was; the Wildfire's soothing voice informing him of the next catastrophe. 

Tiredly, he secured his helmet and jumped, landing smoothly outside a planet that glowed with a neon-luminescence. Searing pink's and red's glanced across his vision and, as he docked, he couldn't help feeling like he recognised it all somehow. He knew he had never been there before – his dimension counter told him so - but it felt almost like he had. Like he knew it intimately, from a lifetime ago. 

A man in a gold uniform greeted him with a suspicious glare.

Storm clouds growled and rolled ominously overhead, finally deciding to throw down sheets of rain as Ace smiled genially and jumped down from the ship, striding across the gravel to meet him.

“_Hello_,” drawled the man once Ace was within speaking distance.

_"_An absolute pleasure,” Ace stuck his hand out perfunctorily, keeping his voice friendly as he squinted at his surroundings, trying to figure out why he recognised them. Eventually he shook his head, reasoning that perhaps he’d work it out later. “You know, that's a spiffing suit you've got there – absolutely first rate. I picked up a distress call, so just wanted to pop in to make sure things were all tickety-boo with you lot,"

"You're all _wet,_"

"Well yes. _It is raining," _Ace grinned, looking up at the drizzling sky and slowly realising why this all felt so achingly familiar. His eyes widened and he looked back at the man with new recognition. “The-the distress call?”

"Ah, you must be the _candy man,” _the man smirked at Ace _“_Right this way – I’m afraid the master is currently predisposed but if you don’t mind waiting, I’m sure he’ll make it…worth your while. We’d hate to put you on… _edge.”_

"Sorry. _Sorry,” _Ace said, hiding his nervousness behind a smile “I don’t mean to be rude, but could you tell me where I am?”

"This?” the man frowned, gesturing behind him, “This is the planet Transsexual, in the system Transylvania.”

"Ah I see. I rather thought as much.” Ace paused, before clapping his hands together, “Right, well, terribly sorry, but there’s really somewhere I have to be."

"Must I remind you of our distress call-? It is against the master’s orders, but as a matter of principle I feel I must inform you that it involves _Nazis-_”

"Stuff your distress call," said Arnold Rimmer, a small smile on his face which suddenly seemed a great deal more weasely and less handsome than a moment ago. He looked up and, as he did, the clouds cleared, revealing blue skies. The last drizzle of rain dripped down his cheek and he looked back at the man, smiling softly "_I'm going home_."

_\-----_

_That really drives you insane_

"Rimmer?"

Ace lifted his helmet, looking askance at Lister who had snuck up behind him and was leaning against the console, regarding him with a healthy dollop of scepticism.

“Surprise,” Rimmer said weakly, cursing himself. He’d wanted to make his entrance a little more impressive.

“Is it really you?”

“It was last time I checked.”

“You came in quietly,”

“Cloaking device,” Rimmer clicked a button on a small remote and suddenly the Wildfire shimmered into existence on the viewing screen. “I need to send her back,” he murmured, clicking another button and watching as the Wildfire shuddered into life before becoming smaller against the backdrop of stars. He smiled and sent out a silent goodbye to the ship that had been his home and companion for so long. He would miss her, but it was time for both of them to go in different directions. She belonged to another Ace now.

“Why are you back?”

Rimmer slipped the remote back into his pocket as he considered Lister’s question.

“You’d never believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” Lister challenged.

Rimmer sighed, weighing up his options.

“I was five hundred or so years into the future, received a distress call from… well, he looked like _Riff Raff_ and when I landed on the planet Transsexual, I realised that I’d missed a hell of a lot of Rocky re-watches. So I modified the Wildfire’s engines, sent another Ace into the world to deal with the Transylvanians, and time-warped back here.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you. I can barely believe that you’re even _here _at all.” Rimmer deflated, before he noticed the tiniest smile on Lister’s face, mostly hidden by the way his face was downturned and inspecting his nails.

“Well it’s the truth anyway. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“God Rimmer, you drive me absolutely spare,” Lister sighed in exasperation, finally making eye contact with the hologram, “Of course I’m glad to see you.”

Rimmer beamed and Lister had to turn away before the contagion of his smile could catch him between the eyes.

“So… you missed watching Rocky huh?” Rimmer’s smile fell from his face faster than a cannonball dropped from a height; Lister had called his bluff and the little goit _knew _it.

“Among…other things,” he hedged, hating the smug smirk that Lister wore so well.

“I missed other things too,” Lister sighed, soothing the smugness with the soft look he sent Rimmer. “I missed you… I missed…us?” he winced, hoping he wasn’t wrong, hoping he wasn’t reading too far into what had happened between them.

“Oh thank _smeg_,” Rimmer breathed.

“You too?”

“Yes, _me too, _you goiting idiot. Why did you think I’d come back?”

“You said you missed Rocky,” Lister teased.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly lying. You make an excellent Rocky in those golden shorts.”

“Really? I think I look like a bit of a prat.”

“That too.”

“Shut up,” Lister shook his head fondly.

“I’ve been back less than five minutes. _Make_ me,” Rimmer arched an eyebrow and Lister - never one to shy away from a challenge – informed him there was to be a private showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show later and perhaps he should come. Unfortunately, the meaning was nearly lost in between the deep kisses that he used to punctuate the sentence.

But Rimmer got the gist.

_\-----_

_Let's do the time warp again_

Time had rolled onwards. Time would continue to roll onwards.

Rimmer dropped a kiss onto Lister’s head as he yawned and passed over a can of beer.

“How many years have we been doing this now?”

“Too many,” Lister chuckled, patting the spot next to him on the couch as he put his feet up on a charging skutter.

“I’ve told Cat and Kryten,” said Rimmer, sitting down in the spot indicated. He looked at Lister and smirked, “Have you dressed as Doctor Everett Scott this year?”

“Oi, just because I’ve got a blanket on my knees-“

“You’re barely 60,” Rimmer rolled his eyes.

“Ah ah ah, 3 million and 60,” Lister corrected him, chuckling at Rimmer.

“Still just as annoying as ever.”

“So who are you?”

“Brad. Bowtie, see. Who are you supposed to be if you’re not Everett?”

“Can’t you guess? Oh smeg! I forgot, one sec-“

Lister extricated himself from the blanket and the scutter, rustling through a cupboard until he turned around, a blond wig perched on his head.

Rimmer roared with laughter; a bold, brash sound that had only developed in the last couple of years and was totally free, untethered from self-hatred and embarrassment.

It was one of Lister’s favourite sounds.

Lister clasped his hands together and put on a high voice; “Oh _Brad,_” he simpered, making doe eyes at Rimmer.

“It’s alright Janet,” Rimmer delivered back in Ace’s voice, rolling his eyes as Lister grinned and settled next to him. “You are going to take off the wig, aren’t you?” he asked presently, before frowning at it. “Hang on a mo’. That’s _my _wig, isn’t it?”

“What? No. Course not.”

“It is! Smegging hell,” Rimmer plucked the hair from Lister’s head and examined it.

He was still looking at it when Kryten and the Cat wandered in, bringing with them a positively ecstatic Toastie who had been tasked with making dry toast for the event.

“Muffle the toaster,” Rimmer said, finally setting the wig down on the side and settling deeper into the couch, leaning up against Lister’s side.

Lister gave his cheek a quick kiss before asking ‘Are you ok?’ _sotto voce _as the opening credits started to play.

Rimmer nodded and smiled at him, before nestling closer into his side, tucking his head into the curve of Lister’s neck and twitching Lister’s blanket off his knees so he could spread it over both of them. Lister took Rimmer’s hand and squeezed, mouthing along with the lyrics and joining in the opening callouts with the rest of the crew.

Rimmer smiled to himself. He thought about the insecurities of his youth and his past fear of being caught watching the film. Seeing memories of Ace always had an uncanny habit of reminding him of his past and it made sense, considering all the dimension-jumping and time travel that had been a hazard of the job.

But he’d noticed something as Ace. Something that had scared him at the time, but which he now found infinitely comforting.

Patterns seemed to repeat across time and space. The same people, the same iteration of events, flowing around and around in a Mobius loop of existence. Small differentiations creating new universes, and all of them turning over and over, different sides of the same coin, for what looked like eternity.

It had scared Rimmer, to think that there would always be a version of himself having to live through the insecurities of his childhood, of his teen years, of his twenties and thirties and forties. His entire life, and a good chunk of his death. But now that he was here, and had lived through all of that, and somehow come out the other side, he realised that being here, _happy_, in his own slice of time and space, meant that perhaps life wasn’t so bad after all. 

So long as you realised that something always came next, and it would always be a surprise to you, even if you’d lived it before in some sort of past life, and that it might bring happiness, or love, or peace. If all that was true then _life_ – whatever that meant - _was worth it._

And as the cosmic eternity loop carried them away to the rest of their lives, and the rest of their next lives, Rimmer smiled and sang along to the soundtrack.

_Let's do the time warp again._


End file.
